Falling Stars
by Dragon'sHost
Summary: Sometimes the best things in life really do fall out of the sky and into your lap. Although, no one ever seems to mention that they're heavy and result in back pain.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, everyone! After a bad day at work, I decided I needed fluff in my life. So I asked Eien ni Touko for a prompt, and she sent me one from otpprompts on Tumblr. It morphed into this, somehow. Thanks, girl!**

 **I should probably mention that the characters are their non-timeskip ages, here. So Sting and Rogue are nineteen, and Lucy is twenty-four.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.**

* * *

A blonde woman, swaddled in a fluff-lined winter jacket and a scarf of jet, stared forlornly up. Peering through the gently falling snowflakes, she was hard pressed to tell where the bones of the tree covered the blank sky. Her cheeks, ears, and nose burned, stained red by the frigid air. She shifted, the cold worming its way under her clothes to settle within her own skeleton. Beneath her boots, the fallen snow creaked. Otherwise, there was not a sound to be heard, other than the curious noise snowflakes make as they descend, and the woman's own, harsh breathing.

Drawing in a deep breath, pulling into her air so chill it felt as if crystals were forming inside her lungs, she called out, "Plue! Where are you?"

"Pun-pun!" came a warbled, answering cry above her head.

Scanning the branches for the source of the sound, the woman at last located her wayward pet. "Plue!" she cried, spotting the alabaster dog high up in the tree's embrace.

The creature shook with tremors not caused by the season, and looked at its owner with no concern whatsoever as to its precarious perch. "Pu-Pun!"

With a shake of her head, the woman sighed. "You're not coming down on your own, are you?"

"Pun!"

"Well!" the blonde huffed, reaching out towards the smooth bark of the tree's trunk. "I guess I'll just have to come up after you!"

"Pu-pu-pun," the dog agreed.

Slowly, she pulled herself up onto the first, low-hanging branch. It was difficult to get purchase on the slippery bark with her gloves on, but there was no way she was taking them off in _this_ weather. The wood bowed beneath her weight, and she scrambled to reach another branch before her snow-laden perch gave way.

Ascending as swiftly as she could, the determined blond woman made it three more branches up before she paused to catch her breath.

"How on Earth did you manage to get so high up, Plue?" she wondered aloud.

The dog offered no comment, already attempting to climb to the bough above.

Seeing this, the woman reached out for her next handhold - hoping to get to her tree-climbing dog before he slipped and fell.

She felt a tremor race through her boots, as she stood upon the tree branch.

Then, with a thunderclap, it snapped beneath her, and she was falling.

* * *

"Dude, I told you, Professor Geer is a demon!" a young blond man proclaimed, waving his arms enthusiastically.

His dark haired companion seemed less than amused, having been smacked by an errant hand more than a few times in the past several minutes as they crossed the silent, snow-covered park. "He's your Literature professor, not a creature of the netherworld," he informed his friend. "But I'll bite. What nefarious plot is he brewing now?"

"Winter-break homework."

The brunet rolled his startlingly crimson eyes. "I should have known. Sting, I'm sure several of your other professors have also assigned work. Why is Professor Geer in particular the subject of your ire?"

Sting groaned, letting his arms fall before shoving them into his pockets. It was far too cold out for them to be walking around in the snow, in his humble opinion, but no. Rogue had to insist that walking was good for them and forced them to take this circuitous path back to their shared apartment. Under threat of being nicknamed Bubble Sting for the rest of his life, he followed his childhood friend under great duress. "Rogue, you just don't get it. Yeah, the other professors assigned homework. But Professor Geer saddled me - _me -_ with _extra_ work!"

Rogue raised an eyebrow at the blond. "What did he assign?"

With another moan rife with despair, Sting replied, " _War and Peace_."

"...Tolstoy."

"Tolstoy."

"All of it?"

He nodded. "All of it."

"What did you do to him _this_ time?"

"Why do you always assume I did something?!" Sting asked, cerulean eyes livid.

"Because fourteen years of acquaintanceship with you has taught me that. You've. Always. Done. _Something_."

After a moment of contemplation, Sting came to the same conclusion. "Alright, fine. I _may_ have thrown beans at him."

The pair walked on in silence for a minute. "Seriously, Sting?" Rogue eventually asked, mortified on his best friend's behalf.

"While shouting "Demon Be Gone!" Sting added. "His face was _priceless_ , I'm telling you."

Vividly able to picture the flabbergasted expression the professor must have had, Rogue felt bad for the taciturn educator. Professor Geer was tough, but usually fair. Sting seemed to have made it his life goal to drive the man to the brink of insanity. An endeavor that brought out a heretofore unknown streak of vindictiveness in the professor. "You're at least going to do the homework, right?"

"Duh." Hopping - for no apparent reason - Sting continued, "Joke's on him, though. I've already read _War and Peace_ so this will be a nice refresher."

It wasn't well known to the general college populace, but Rogue was aware that Sting - despite all actions and appearances to the contrary - was one of the smartest people in that lecture hall. Maybe that was why he hadn't yet been thrown bodily out of the room or out a window yet. "I wasn't aware that you had read that one."

Sting shrugged, striding normally once more. "Dad had weird ideas about what I should learn as a kid."

Rogue recalled that just as clearly. "True. Between them, my father and yours made sure we were at college reading level by the time we were ten. Do you remember when they would try to pit us against each other in trivia games, for the only dessert?"

"Never letting them near my children, if I ever have any," Sting vowed. "Children deserve their sweets."

"Agreed."

Snow drifted around them and settled onto their thick coats. Rogue hoped that the crystallized water wouldn't soak through his bag and get into his textbooks. Warped pages made reading the difficult subject material even more tedious.

Passing under some trees, the pair continued along their meandering path homeward. With the winter holiday breaking up the middle of the semester, Rogue and Sting were both looking forward to a restful vacation from all of their coursework. Frosch and Lector, their cats, would probably be just as excited to spend time with their owners as well. Neither Sting nor Rogue had been as attentive as they should have been to their feline companions what with midterms to study for. But that was all over now, and as soon as they reached the apartment they would be assaulted by their two favorite furballs.

An ominous crack suddenly resounded above the pair's heads.

Rogue's head snapped up in concert with Sting's.

At that moment, a heavy object fell from the sky and body slammed them to the ground.

* * *

 **I could not resist adding in Professor Mard. I love him so much.**


	2. Chapter 2

**In my defense, I really did not think it would take me so long to get back to this fic. It's mostly just going to be lighthearted nonsense.**

 **This fic is now officially also MiraMard, and Private Documents is a direct prequel.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail**

* * *

Mirajane polished the countertop vigorously, putting far more elbow grease into it than strictly necessary. There was nothing else she needed to do at the moment, so she was dragging the task out as long as possible. For once she stopped, she'd have to contend with the emptiness and lack of customers without her book – which of course she'd forgotten at home that morning. She wondered if Lucy would mind if she poked her head upstairs and borrowed one from her shelf...

Before the thought could truly gain any traction, Mirajane spotted a darkened form moving beyond the foggy glass windows. A bell tingled over the door as a man swathed in a coat and scarf and clutching a black briefcase in his gloved hands swept into the coffeeshop with a small entourage of fallen snow.

"Good evening!" Mirajane greeted, smiling her best, most professional smile. It soon blossomed into a genuine one as the man unwound the scarf from his shoulders, shaking out snowflakes from his long, black hair. "Professor Geer! Good to see you again. As you can see, we're packed, but I made sure to reserve your favorite spot for you."

The man snorted at her joking comment, hanging up his coat and scarf on the nearby stand to dry. "Been like this all day I take it." He seated himself down in what was less booth and more of a walled off area with cushioned seats. There were more open areas for customers to sit in, but Mard Geer always chose a spot that gave him a physical barrier between him and the rest of humanity.

Leaving off her abuse of the counter, Mirajane wiped her hands off before grabbing her notepad and pen. Emerging from behind the counter, she made her way to where the professor was seated. "Can't be helped. It's winter break as of today, right?" At his answering nod, she continued, "Most students are probably headed straight home, and not too many of the regulars want to brave the snow." She giggled. "Well… all but one regular, anyway."

"I like it better when it's quiet," Mard admitted. "I figured that so long as there was electricity, this place would be open." After a moment of intense, internal debate, he added, "And that you would be here."

He wasn't wrong. The owner rarely closed the store, and since Mirajane was the only full-time employee and working to put her two siblings through college… it meant that she was there near constantly. Still, the professor's statement was… really sweet. Color suffusing her cheeks, she laughed brightly. "Well, I'm glad to have you here! So what can I get you to start with?"

Long experience gathered over the two years Mard had been frequenting the establishment meant that Mirajane knew Mard would be holed up with her until closing time. Which was rarely a problem, she had to admit to herself. He was good, quiet company, and when he felt inclined to chat he was an entertaining conversationalist.

"Any new specials?" he asked.

"Got some new peppermint flavor in just this morning before the snow hit. I could whip something up with that." She'd run out of the popular flavor fast with winter's onslaught. Honestly, it wasn't something she fully understood. There was enough winter _outside_ , why have it in your mouth as well?

"Sugar-free as well?"

"You know it."

"I'll have a peppermint eggnog, then."

"Be back with that shortly!" Mirajane promised.

As she whisked away, Mard laid his briefcase on the table. After a moment of struggle with the latch, he sighed in defeat and removed his gloves before attempting the task again. Although he had been within the warm confines of the coffeeshop for a little while, the clasps were still bitingly cold from his excursion out into the snow-covered city. With a snap, they popped open. Withdrawing a stack of papers from within along with several red pens, he set them before him and closed the briefcase once more.

Time to get to work.

Mard sometimes wondered why he ever decided that teaching was the career for him. It was better at the collegiate level, it was true, but at the same time it was somehow worse because he expected more from his students by the time they reached his courses and was always severely disappointed. Somewhere along the line, their previous teachers had failed to instill in them a basic understanding of proper punctuation nor the desire to learn such. It made reading over their essays physically painful.

The midterms in his immediate grasp, however, would hopefully prove to be less of a migraine. By this point they had a decent grasp of how to fill in multiple choice bubbles, and the analysis portions were short enough that Mard could go over them rapidly.

That being said. He really, really was not looking forward to reaching Sting Eucliffe's. A year of classes with the young man, and professor was nearing his limit in terms of tolerance. This was getting ridiculous. But at least with the break, he would be getting a two week reprieve from his irritating student.

It wasn't long before Mirajane brought him his drink. Silently, he passed her a book that had also been inside his briefcase.

Beaming at him, she took the book with immensely heartfelt thanks. Then she retreated to behind the counter, and opened it up.

Mard was already halfway through his stack of midterms and his second drink – this time hot cider – when the next customers finally arrived. The bell over the door barely registered in his periphery, but a moment later an all-too familiar voice fully captured his attention. He stiffened, and withdrew a little further into the booth.

"Hey, Rogue… does that coat look familiar to you?"

What in the world was Eucliffe doing at Mard's quiet refuge place?!

"It looks like a coat, Sting," a second voice stated.

"Welcome!" Mirajane greeted the new customers, drawing their attention away from Mard's belongings. "How can I help you?"

"Oh. Uh… Hello," came Sting's eloquent response. "Table for three, I guess. Gal named Lucy said to ask for Mirajane…?"

"I'm Mirajane. So… you two know Lucy?" Mard could practically see the mischievous gleam in Mirajane's blue eyes.

"In a… manner of speaking…" Rogue stated, somewhat hesitantly.

Sting picked up where Rogue left off with zero reservations of his own. "Found her up a tree and then she fell on us. Said she'd treat us to coffee as an apology."

Mard's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and he imagined that Mirajane's were doing much the same. "This is a story I need to hear more about!" the waitress declared.

The professor found himself reluctantly agreeing. Content to eavesdrop, he took a sip of his cider. This was bound to be good.


End file.
